the charging. That 's scientific and neat; but knives—pah!"
The baggage-camel had been bobbing his head to and fro for some time past, anxious to get a word in edgeways. Then I heard him say, as he cleared his throat, nervously:
"I—I—I have fought a little, but not in that climbing way or that running way."
"No. Now you mention it," said Billy, "you don't look as though you were made for climbing or running—much. Well, how was it, old Hay-bales?"
"The proper way" said the camel. "We all sat down—"
"Oh, my crupper and breastplate!" said the troop-horse under his breath. "Sat down?"
"We sat down—a hundred of us," the camel went on, "in a big square, and the men piled our packs and saddles outside the square, and they fired over our backs, the men did, on all sides of the square."
"What sort of men? Any men that came along?" said the troop-horse. "They teach us in riding-school to lie down and let our masters fire across us, but Dick Cunliffe is the only man I 'd trust to do that. It tickles my girths, and, besides, I can't see with my head on the ground."
